


So Don't Keep Saying Our Hands Are Tied

by SobbingInACorner



Series: This Is The Greatest Show [5]
Category: The Greatest Showman (2017), The Greatest Showman (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Anne Wheeler too, Blood and Violence, Circus, Couple of OCs - Freeform, Did i mention Lettie is a queen, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I hurt the things i love, Injury, Medical Procedures, Medicine, One Big Happy Family, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Racism, Racist Language, Someone give Phillip Carlyle a hug, Stabbing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SobbingInACorner/pseuds/SobbingInACorner
Summary: Their kiss had become somewhat of a tradition upon finishing each show. As the final line of their song rang out, he swept her around and pressed his lips to hers, caught in the thrill of the moment. Fireworks seemed to fill his mind, and there was only the cheers of the crowd, and her. But there were hisses. Boos. Names called, names so horrible Phillip couldn’t bear to think of them.





	1. Fate Is Pulling You Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> More angst and even more fluff for the one and only Anne Wheeler and Phillip Carlyle  
> This ship has more or less taken over my life at this point send help  
> Jk don’t I love them
> 
> {Warning for racism and racist slurs and insults (n word is censored) in this chapter}

•Phillip•

It was a crisp winter morning that greeted Phillip as he stepped out of his trailer that Saturday. These were the best days – free mornings, then two evening shows to start off the performing week. These were the best nights: they pulled the biggest and happiest crowds on Saturdays. These people were simply looking to have a good night out – not to jeer, or catcall. Not to fear and hate the performers they had paid to see.

There were always a few though. Bitter, drunken men, slinging insults in jealous rage. More than once had Phillip had to escort them out, sometimes forced to enlist some of the performers’ help. Lettie had proved eager to show them who was boss if push came to shove. In fact, only one performer still shied away, not daring to face their attackers.

Anne.

Their kiss had become somewhat of a tradition upon finishing each show. As the final line of their song rang out, he swept her around and pressed his lips to hers, caught in the thrill of the moment. Fireworks seemed to fill his mind, and there was only the cheers of the crowd, and her. But there were hisses. Boos. Names called, names so horrible Phillip couldn’t bear to think of them.

_Whore._

_Bitch._

_Mulatto._

_Filthy n****r._

It did hurt him. But it hurt Anne more.

This night was the same. The circus troupe struck a final triumphant pose. Phillip turned to Anne. She had never looked more beautiful. The piled curls of her rosy wig framed her ecstatic face, as a smile grew and her charcoal eyes shone. Her satin leotard glowed every hue of indigo, violet, lilac, lavender, and the tiny golden pearls adorning her neck glinted in the spotlight. She was the light in his world. And as he leant in to kiss her, the crowd agreed. A standing ovation, as cheers and applause filled the tent. Even the angry shouts, boos, raging protestors in the corner of his eye couldn’t stop him now. But Anne pulled away and ran out of the ring.

 

•Anne•

She ran out of the ring. She ran away, anywhere, any place, just away from there. She found herself outside the tent, huddled against the cool fabric of the tent walls, crouched in the mud. 

_Where you belong,_ her mind told her.

_No,_ she replied, _I don’t. I'm not scared to be seen – I make no apologies. This is me._

But there she stayed.

Soon Phillip found her. Sat beside her. Starting spouting off some nonsense about how they would never be allowed back, how Lettie and W. D and the Irish Giant had escorted them out (rather forcefully), how she shouldn’t listen to them, they were just insignificant, angry men.

“But why?”

Her voice was raw, on the edge of breaking. Eyes red, tears threatening to spill.

“Why, what?”

“Why do they hate us?”

That, Phillip couldn’t answer. He sighed, long and deep. Rested his head on her shoulders, top hat discarded on the cold ground.

“I don't know. People are scared of what they don’t understand. That fear becomes anger, then that anger becomes hatred. They’re angry because you're different, and they can’t understand that.”

“You don't get it though. You're white, male, rich, _normal_ -” Her voice stopped, choked with anguish.

“They want us _dead_. They _hate_ us.”

The showman hesitated, then drew her into a tight hug, clinging on as if he would never let go. 

“I can’t understand what it feels like. I joined the circus; in their eyes, I’m guilty by association. But I will never know what you go through.”

A pause.

“But I can help you fight them. Not with violence, not with submission. Stare them straight in the face and tell the world: _this is me.”_

Anne nodded.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“No. Let’s just stay here. It’s nice.”

The ink sky shone with stars, illuminating the camp with a thousand spotlights. Anne and Phillip watched as the moon rose.

_When the sharpest words wanna cut me down,_

_gonna send a flood,_

_gonna drown ‘em out._


	2. So Who Can Stop Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne ran out just as the first protestor went down. Chaos surrounded the entrance to the tent; screaming and spitting protestors clashed with the vengeful circus troupe, determined not to repeat that fateful night at the Barnum Museum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for feelings
> 
> Y'all know I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort and I love Phillip so guess what aahahaha
> 
> {Warning for racist slurs (n word is censored),   
> blood and violence in this chapter}

•Anne•

It was the next show that it happened. It was bound to happen eventually. The protestors had become angrier, more violent – they were going to snap at some point. Anne just didn’t think now.

She was in the dressing room with Cecelia and Lettie. Lettie was combing the tangles out of her bushy beard, and Cecelia was vigorously scrubbing the golden makeup off her face. Anne had finished changing, and was carefully placing her delicate wig back onto its stand, when she heard it. The chanting of a riled up crowd. Chanting that quickly became the roars of an enraged mob. Lettie and Cecelia glanced at her worriedly, then the three performers sprinted towards the noise.

 

•Phillip•

Anne ran out just as the first protestor went down. Chaos surrounded the entrance to the tent; screaming and spitting protestors clashed with the vengeful circus troupe, determined not to repeat that fateful night at the Barnum Museum. To his left, Lettie charged forward and swung her fist at a shoddily dressed drunk. To his right, the Irish Giant waded through a crowd of jeering men, slinging them away from the fight one by one. Phillip was in the midst of the battle, attempting to reinstate some form of order. 

“Anne!” he screamed. “Anne!”

She turned his way and began to run towards him. But just as her outstretched hands reached for his frantic ones, a final protestor stepped in to block her way. With a shock, Phillip recognised the battered leather cap. The dingy smell of old beer and the matted, untidy beard. This was the ‘leader’ of the protestors: the same man that had started the fight at the old circus, that had lead to the fire, that had lead to –

“Back off ya filthy freak!” The man spat at her feet. Anne glanced at Phillip, question in her eyes. He didn’t know what to do. 

Anne decided for him. She stepped towards the livid protestor and stared him in the face, cold eyed and proud. 

“I’m not scared to be seen, and I make no apologies. This is me.” 

The leader sneered. “You think I’m gonna stand here and be inspired by some freak with a death wish? Take all your little creeps and go back to where you came from, you filthy n****r!”

He shoved Anne into the mud.

And Phillip saw red.

He lunged at the man and began punching him, again and again, over and over, then they were on the ground and rolling in the dirt, kicking and scratching at each other, blinded with rage. The protestor screaming insults, Phillip hoarse with fury. He pinned the man to the ground and began striking him, a blow to the jaw here, another kick to his side. He was vaguely aware of the other fights ending around him, of the victorious circus' cheers turning to alarm as they saw the brutal struggle between the two men. He had no time to dwell on their victory – the man was up again, and he was simply mad. Spittle flew from his jaws as he launched himself at the showman in a ferocious barrage, swinging his fists wildly. Then it was utter bedlam as they fought, Anne shrieking for Phillip, the performers' dread turned to loathing for Phillip’s opponent, and their ear-splitting support for their ringmaster. The thundering noise battered Phillip's eardrums, and as he fought he glanced down to see the man stumble away, and in a split second he had reached beneath his coat to reveal a glint of silver, and the rambunctious crowd's trepidation mirrored his own as –

Anne screamed.

He looked down to see the wooden hilt of a knife buried in his gut. The world was silent. Lettie howled with muffled rage and knocked the man to the  ground. Anne  seemed to rush   towards him   in slow motion, so   fast yet   so slow, and   he could see    red, thick, crimson   red, and   it seemed   to be  coming from   him, why   was it  coming    from    him, and   as  black     swam    into  his     vision   he   knew    only    Anne. Then   he     felt         himself         falling       backwards      and      knew          nothing              at                    all.

_Gonna send a flood,_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger   
> Sorry not sorry ahaha
> 
> I’ve gotta stop hurting my boy honestly
> 
> Next chapter up soonish!


	3. They Can Say We've Lost Our Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time stopped when Phillip hit the ground. Everything was frozen, and all Anne could think of was the fire, and Barnum carrying his burnt and bloodied body out, and not again, never again. She started forwards in the horrified silence, towards his limp body, lying twisted on the cold earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl is back  
> With piles and piles of hurt and comfort cus we all secretly love it  
> Also Anne Wheeler and Lettie Lutz are queens

  * Anne•



Time stopped when Phillip hit the ground. Everything was frozen, and all Anne could think of was the fire, and Barnum carrying his burnt and bloodied body out, and _not again, never again._ She started forwards in the horrified silence, towards his limp body, lying twisted on the cold earth. Behind her she heard Lettie wrestling Phillip's attacker (not murderer, _not murderer)_ down and subduing him. Vaguely she wondered if he would be punished. After all, who cared about those freaks? But she pushed those traitorous thoughts from her mind as she stumbled to her knees beside Phillip. He was sprawled on the ground, face ashen and eyes closed. His white shirt was torn and dirtied. And bloodied.

She clapped her hand to her mouth, unable to comprehend the ghastly sight. A roughly cut kitchen knife, oak handle and steel blade. Embedded in Phillip's body. A russet stain blossomed from the sickening wound, tendrils of crimson spreading across the man's ruined shirt. Phillip's eyes fluttered occasionally, and only the ragged breaths from his open mouth told the frantic woman that her lover wasn't –

No. Thinking like that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Phillip. She swallowed, then reached forward to touch the knife. But just as her shaking fingers grasped the handle, Lettie appeared at her side.

‘Don't move it. It’ll only hurt him more, and right now, that knife's the only thing keeping him from bleeding out.”

“Wha- what happened to that man?” she managed.

A tiny smirk pulled at the bearded lady's lips.

“Your brother took care of him.”

Anne was flooded with momentary relief, which instantly evaporated as Phillip groaned, pulling her back to the situation at hand. Lettie's voice was grave as she assessed the injured showman.

“Constantine and Octavia have gone to fetch a local doctor who doesn't mind treating freaks, and The Irish Giant went with Tom to fetch Barnum. I’m no expert, but I’ve treated my fair share of injuries, and right now all we can do is keep him as stable as possible, and comfortable, until the doctor arrives.”

Anne nodded, still staring at her lover's blanched face. Lettie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Anne. Look at me.”

She tore her eyes away to meet Lettie’s bronze ones.

_“He’ll be okay._ Don’t worry. We'll take care of everything, wait for the doctor and get him to a hospital. Then he'll heal, come home and you two can get married and have hundreds of little circus children.”

Anne couldn’t hide a grin at the thought of that. But Phillip shifted slightly and moaned in pain, and that fragile dream was pulled apart in an instant.

“Right. We'll have to move him, or he’ll die from infection long before blood loss,” Lettie decided. She motioned to a couple of performers clustered nearby, who moved forward to help her move the man.

As they hoisted Phillip up, a cry of pain slipped past his lips. Anne felt her heart break in two. Trying not to sob, she followed them to Phillip's trailer.

 

  * Phillip•



Darkness.

There was only darkness.

Occasionally, a flash of agony. Red hot flames wreathed his torso.

Then temporary relief, as he sank back into darkness.

 

  * Phineas•



He was helping Caroline fix her torn winter coat (as a guilty Helen looked on) when there was a frantic hammering on the door. He set his sewing kit down and made his way hesitantly to the hallway. Upon opening the door, a panting Tom was revealed next to a slightly less winded Vladimir.

“Circus.. Phillip.. knife.. Lettie said.. get you..” the dwarf gasped.

Barnum raised an eyebrow and turned to Vladimir for clarification.

“There was a fight. Phillip stabbed. Lettie said ‘go fetch Barnum',” the taller man recited.

Ice seemed to creep through Phineas. Phillip.. stabbed?

“Let me get my coat.”

_Gonna drown em out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear that was a bit short  
> Also throwing Barnum in the mix now woohoo  
> Drop a comment with anything you'd like to see!


	4. However Big, However Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His limp hand was clasped tight in hers, and as she stared at his closed eyes, dark lashes on drained white skin, the only thing she could think about was them open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl is back  
> Guess who preordered the movie on blu-ray   
> Chapter full of feels and pain cus Phillip just can't catch a break  
> Also idk how medicine worked in the 1880s so I googled a bit then improvised
> 
> {Trigger warning for blood and injury}

•Anne•

Anne wrung her hands and tried not to look as the doctor worked. She recalled the blonde walking in and demanding to see Phillip, only announcing her name later. Doctor Rose Miller. Tall. Kind eyes. Her industry looked down on her, so she took it upon herself to treat the looked down upon. She could save Phillip. All that mattered.

His limp hand was clasped tight in hers, and as she stared at his closed eyes, dark lashes on drained white skin, the only thing she could think about was them open. She could never tell what hue they were – it seemed to change, day by day. Sometimes deep, sapphire, like the sky. Other times cloudy, fern, leaves fallen from spring trees. She wondered what they were now. She wondered why she hasn’t taken the time to notice before –

_“Phillip!”_

Barnum?

 

•Phineas•

P. T. Barnum stormed into the cabin, only to falter at the sight of his over compensated apprentice lying comatose on a low desk, with a kitchen knife lodged in his stomach and what appeared to be half the circus looking on worriedly. The younger man's skin was a sheet of white, punctured only by harsh red gashes and flowering bruises. A doctor knelt by his side, and as Phineas stood in horror, she counted down under her breath. 

Then yanked the knife out. 

A strangled cry erupted from Phillip's mouth as he writhed in torment. The entire room winced at the agonised scream. Anne Wheeler, sat by his side, gripped his hand tighter and bowed her head. Silent tears dripped from her chin. Her lover sank back into unconsciousness as the doctor hastily cleaned and stitched the wound. Barnum swallowed, and stepped forward. Finishing the final stitch, the doctor looked up and smiled softly. 

“P. T. Barnum?”

“That’s me.”

“Your partner here has taken quite a hit – we should transfer him to a hospital just to be safe. He's out of immediate danger, but there is always a risk of infection or internal bleeding. I’d like to keep him here tonight just to be sure, then move him come morning. Doctor Rose Miller by the way.”

“Ah.”

“Are you alright, Mr Barnum?”

Phineas couldn’t answer. Phillip looked too still, his shallow breaths and bloodied hands all too familiar. 

“I just.. Nothing. I’m fine. Thank you for your help, Doctor Miller.”

“My pleasure.”

 

•Anne•

The room was quiet after the doctor left. So quiet, in fact, that the only sounds audible were Phillip's ragged breaths and Anne’s muffled sobbing. W. D stepped forward and rested his hand on his sister’s shoulder. 

“We’ll go now. If you need us, just shout. We'll come.”

The troupe nodded in agreement. Then they shuffled out, leaving only Anne and Barnum, standing dumbstruck behind her. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and chuckled wistfully.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Agreed.”

 

•Phineas•

An uncomfortable tension filled the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“What did the doctor do with that knife?”

“Disposed of it.”

“Ah.”

He shuffled his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Phineas noticed two bottles and a rag sitting on the table. The rag was worn, stained with small patches of amber. The vials were clear, one filled with the same yellowish solution, one half full with a transparent, watery fluid. The labels were too small to read. 

“What are the bottles for?”

Anne's voice was small.

“The clear one is morphine. Doctors use it to relieve pain.”

She stopped, and took a shuddering breath.

“The amber is chloroform, in case he's awake and..”

Tears pricked at her eyes again.

“And?” prompted Phineas gently.

“And.. and the pain g- gets too much.” Anne finished. Tears rolled down her cheeks freely now. They fell onto her clasped hands, mingling with the russet blood tainting her fingertips. Phineas knew whose blood that was, and in that moment, he made a quiet prayer to anyone higher and holier that this poor girl would never have to lose so much ever again.

Phillip slept on. Anne wept beside him. The moon began to sink from the sky.

_I am brave,_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl throwing in those parallels with the moon from the first chapter ayy
> 
> #phillipcarlyleneedsahug  
> Let's get this trending guys


	5. The World I Close My Eyes to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne spent so much time at Phillip's bedside it was beginning to worry her. The days after the fire, that time in the tent, and now here. She wondered if she’d have to hire some kind of escort, a bodyguard even, to keep the man out of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s baaaack
> 
> Poor Phillip give this man a break
> 
> Also there’s a reference to another fic I wrote so check that out if you’re confused ;)
> 
> Also do y'all wanna see Doctor Miller again cus I kinda like her?? Comment if you do!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

•Anne•

Anne spent so much time at Phillip's bedside it was beginning to worry her. The days after the fire, that time in the tent, and now here. She wondered if she’d have to hire some kind of escort, a bodyguard even, to keep the man out of trouble. She chuckled slightly, imagining Phillip surrounded by buff men in suits glaring at people. Then she remembered that Phillip was lying on a table in a tiny wooden trailer, wrapped in bloodied bandages. He'd have to wake up first. 

Anne gripped his weak hand tighter and waited for the sun to rise.

 

•Phineas•

Phineas strode towards the tent, unwavering in his fury. As he turned the corner, he saw W. D standing grimly over a man knelt in the mud. The thug’s bloodshot eyes followed Barnum as he came closer. A ratty beard clung to his jaw, knotted and strewn with crumbs of food. The smell of alcohol hung around him in a cloud, and his torn shirt was coated with specks of blood. A leather cap lay discarded in the dirt.

Phineas marched up to the man and scowled at him, noting with some satisfaction he was sporting a black eye. 

“Do you have _any idea_ what you’ve done?” he growled.

The protestor spat out a clump of blood. 

“Finished off some circus freak I reckon,” he grinned toothlessly.

“No,” Phineas replied, fixing him with an icy stare. “You’ve managed to stab the one and only Phillip Carlyle, New York's most eligible bachelor and playwright of the highest class. And not only is he alive,” _(true)_ “and doing well,” _(not so true)_ “the police are going to be sure to want to find his attacker, even if he associates with the circus. And I’ll be more than willing to help them find said attacker.”

The man's face paled.

“What do you want?” 

Phineas smirked.

“Nothing. I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

He turned to walk away. Then, thinking better of it, he went back to the man. And punched him square in the jaw. 

“That was for Phillip.”

The drunk lay sprawled on the ground as Barnum grinned at W. D (who was attempting to hold back laughter and failing miserably) and marched off, towards the police station.

 

•Anne•

It had been 22 hours, 38 minutes and 17 seconds since Phillip had been taken to his cabin. The sun was setting. And he still hadn’t woken up. The man in question had barely moved; the occasional mumble or groan of pain, perhaps a twitch of the fingers – but nothing more. Anne had changed his scarlet soaked bandages twice, sang, read, even braided his hair (the effects still remained from that particular endeavour). Nothing. She was beginning to wonder if he'd even wake up at all.

 

Phillip's eyes snapped open.

 

_I am bruised_ ,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha cliffhanger sorry not sorry 8)))  
> Also super short chapter sorry :)


	6. Share Your Dreams With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne had never been one to jump at a surprise. But even she had to admit that she shrieked when Phillip shot straight up, wide eyed and panicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so last chapter was short af so here’s a slightly longer but still pretty short one sorry
> 
> Y'all thought I was done hurting Phillip 
> 
> Hahahahahaaaa

•Anne•

Anne had never been one to jump at a surprise. But even she had to admit that she shrieked when Phillip shot straight up, wide eyed and panicked.

_“Phillip!”_

The man twisted around to see her but yelled in pain, clutching his stomach. She hurried forwards and grabbed his shoulders to push him down gently. 

“Don’t move too much,” she scolded. “You want me to redo all your stitches?”

Phillip smirked through a haze of pain. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

“And you have to stop nearly dying!” Anne retorted, eyes suddenly filled with tears.

_“I thought I'd lost you all over again.”_

Phillip stared in dismay as she wept.

“Anne,” he said softly. He reached out to take her hand again. “Anne. I will _never_ leave you again.”

“It’s up to you, and it’s up to me,” she started, remembering the promise he had sung to her all those months ago.

“No one can say what we get to be,” he replied.

She grinned at him, and his smile made her dark world bright again.

“Let’s rewrite the stars.”

They sat like that for a while. Then Phillip winced and grabbed at his bandages as another spike of pain lanced through his body. 

“You need rest,” Anne decided. 

“Promise you'll be here?”

“I promise.”

The showman looked pleased with that answer, and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

 

•Phineas•

The inspector was really beginning to get on Phineas' nerves.

“So.. A peacefully protesting civilian.. Hurt one of your freaks a bit.. And you want him jailed.”

Barnum ground his teeth. 

“No. The violent, angry civilians attacked my performers, one stabbed _the_ Phillip Carlyle, and yes, I would like him jailed.”

The uniformed man slouched in front of him sighed. There was a crumb of bread perched in his bristle moustache.

“Got any evidence to support this, Mr Barnum?”

As a matter of fact, he did. He brought out a paper bag, and from within it pulled a bloodstained kitchen knife. Doctor Miller had slipped him the knife before she left, winking conspiratorially.

The inspector eyed it warily. 

“How do I know it stabbed him?”

Fists clenched, Phineas replied.

“Because I have several eyewitness reports, a trustworthy doctor that removed the knife, a culprit tied up in my tent, and the wounded victim himself!”

The man stroked the broom bristles on his face sceptically. The breadcrumb remained. Phineas had a sudden urge to reach forward and remove it, but resisted. 

“I'll... dispatch some officers. To investigate.”

Finally. Little progress, but progress nevertheless. And as soon as Phillip was well enough to step in and pull some strings, his attacker would be prosecuted and locked up until his mangy beard turned grey.

When Phineas returned to the circus ground, night had fallen. Muffled talking echoed from the trailers. He wanted nothing more than to join them, but first, he needed to see Phillip.

He entered the trailer to comfortable silence. He could hear only two sets of light snores, one light and steadfast, the other rasping but strong. When Phineas glimpsed the couple, a grin spread across his face. Phillip lay slumbering on the makeshift bed. Anne lay sprawled next to him, hand in his. A tiny smile graced her lips, and braids adorned Phillip’s hair, each one finished with a thin pink ribbon. Phineas, careful not to disturb the pair, grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over them. They deserved a rest.

Phineas walked to his own trailer with a smile on his face, and the stars danced in the black sky.

_I am who I’m meant to be,_

_this is me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna finish this story here, cus yaknow happy ending and all yaaaaay  
> I need ideas guys gimme prompts  
> I will start branching out into other fandoms mind you - my life revolves around Marvel NGL  
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> The fandom seems set on hurting Phillip and I am no exception  
> So guess what's in chapter two ahahaha


End file.
